


Saved by the Nighthob

by Burgie



Series: SSO Medieval AU [26]
Category: Star Stable Online
Genre: Gen, warning for attempted rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgie/pseuds/Burgie
Summary: Louisa meets the nighthob. Ronja aka the nighthob belongs to ankle-ghostwright on tumblr.





	Saved by the Nighthob

Lady Louisa drew her cloak around her as she headed down the dark cobblestone path leading to the bridge (which was in a rare state of being repaired) that would take her to New Hillcrest and, from there, the stables. She held a lantern out in front of her, though it did not throw much light. There was no moon to light her path, either, not tonight. She usually didn't come out at night, but she hadn't been able to sleep tonight. And so she'd risen from her bed without waking her husband, put on a cloak, and headed outside, hoping that a night ride with her horse would help her find sleep when she returned.

The shadows seemed darker than usual with no moon, and Louisa hoped that she would not twist her ankle or become horribly lost. But she'd walked this path many times, usually with her husband, on the way to and from the stables to fetch her horse. She knew where she was going, but things looked different at night. And of course, she knew that she could have asked one of the house's servants to fetch her horse for her, but she hadn't wanted to bother them. And besides, there might be gossip, and she didn't want to give the local gossip-mongers more to talk about.

So caught up was she in her thoughts that she did not at first notice the shapes peeling themselves away from the shadows. When a hand grabbed her just above the elbow, she gasped but did not scream. A large hand covered her mouth anyway, and Louisa trembled and let out a low whine as the tears came. Despite growing up as a fish-monger's daughter, Louisa had never learned any self-defense. She'd never had to, not in Cape West. There had been many drunk sailors, but she'd known to remain indoors to avoid them. Never had she expected to be accosted outside her own home.

"For a whore, you don't fight much," a rough voice said near her ear, and Louisa finally began to struggle as she felt something hard pressing against her backside. The man, who stank of wine and sweat, chuckled. "Ah, there we go." Louisa bit down on the man's palm, a foul taste filling her mouth, and resisted the urge to spit.

"Help!" she cried, letting out a shriek of terror as one meaty hand tore at her cloak.

"Help me hold 'er," the man holding her grunted, and Louisa wished that she'd at least learned how to defend herself.

"Scott!" Louisa cried out, but then another hand covered her mouth, this one somewhat thinner. And familiar. She glared at Valdemar, second of his name, whom both she and her husband referred to as 'Junior' behind his back. His dark eyes were cold as he smirked back at her.

"Your husband ain't gonna come rescue you this time, whore," he murmured, chuckling, and groped her breast with his free hand. Louisa tried to push him away, but, despite his thin frame, Junior was quite strong. "Hold 'er up for me." And then, Louisa couldn't fight as the burly man forced her arms behind her, holding her wrists together in the crushing grip of one hand. The lantern fell to the ground, the glass shattering and the flame dying, plunging them into darkness. When she tried to raise her leg to kick Junior, he grabbed it and used it as his opening. Louisa whimpered, closing her eyes in resignation.

"Oi!" All three of them suddenly looked up at the sound of the voice, and Junior mercifully stepped away, pulling his breeches back up.

"By Aideen's loins, it's the nighthob," the burly man murmured, and Louisa felt the grip on her wrists disappear. Louisa was grateful, rubbing her sore wrists and taking her chance to escape. But Junior grabbed her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Leave us, nighthob," Junior barked. "This doesn't concern you."

"Ye're attackin' a defenseless girl," said the dark-haired young woman, approaching them. She was quite scrawny, so it was somewhat amusing to see the way the two men backed away from her. Unfortunately, Junior took Louisa with him. Junior scoffed.

"She's hardly defenseless," said Junior. "When my brother found him, she was practically begging for it. The whore." Louisa's heart pounded. Had Scott really said that about her? But no, he wouldn't. He loved her, he always told her that. "And now she's wandering around at night, unescorted. Just begging to be taken, like a common prostitute."

"Look at 'er, she's shakin'!" said the nighthob, pointing at Louisa's trembling form. "Ye really think that's the face 'o someone who wants it?"

"This is none of your business," said Junior, gripping Louisa's wrist tighter. "Disappear." The nighthob tilted her head to one side, a gesture that looked playful, and yet, both men were suddenly terrified. Junior looked pale, and Louisa saw why a few seconds later. A small blade appeared from out of the nighthob's boot, and was suddenly in her hand.

"Look, I don't care one bit about nobles, hate 'em actually, but when a lass is in trouble, I'm gonna take action," said the nighthob. She snatched a knife up from her other boot so that she held one in each hand. "Direct action."

And, quick as a flash, the dark-haired girl darted forward and slashed at the burly man, aiming for his crotch. Blood and urine quickly coloured his dark breeches, and he ran away, hollering. Then, the nighthob turned to Junior. He paled and ran back towards the Buttergood home. Louisa was left alone, trembling and rubbing her wrists.

"That got 'em runnin'," said the nighthob with a wicked cackle. She bent down and slipped her knives back into her boots, then straightened up. All Louisa could do was stare at her. "Are ye alright now, lass?"

"You saved me," said Louisa, still hardly able to believe that she'd escaped that relatively unscathed. Her wrists hurt, as did her nether regions from Junior roughly tearing her underclothes, but it could have been so much worse. She wanted to hug the scrawny girl, but she knew that that wouldn't be proper. "Thank you!" The nighthob looked confused, tilting her head to the side in curiosity this time.

"What? Don't ye know who I am?" said the nighthob.

"No," said Louisa. "I have never heard of a nighthob. Who are you?"

"I'm the nighthob," said the other girl, straightening up and puffing her chest out with pride. "The scourge of the streets. I usually take from the nobles, those undeserving, pretentious arseholes." Were Louisa a born noble, her cheeks would have turned pink at the language this girl was using. But she came from a fishing and shipping port, she was used to foul language. Though, usually it came from the taverns and from male mouths or busty tavern-wenches.

"Oh," said Louisa. "Then I should be scared of you?"

"Aye," said the nighthob, nodding. "'ow is it that ye've never 'eard of me, though? Everyone's 'eard of the nighthob!"

"I must confess, I do not listen to gossip," said Louisa, looking down at her feet. "When one is the subject of many rumours, one learns to avoid them if at all possible."

"Well, ye obviously can't just punch 'em or slice their tongues out," said the nighthob. "Ye couldn't even get out of a simple hold like that one you were in before."

"I lack physical strength," said Louisa.

"Wanna get some?" asked the nighthob. Louisa was surprised. "I know, yer a lady an' all, but ye gotta learn to defend yerself, lass."

"Yes," said Louisa. "If you are offering..."

"'course I am!" said the nighthob. "Not often I offer ta teach a noble lady 'ow ta fight, but yer such a sad sack I feel bad for ye. Ere, take this knife." She grabbed it out of her boot and made to toss it to Louisa, but then reconsidered and handed it to her hilt-first. Louisa took it, very unsure what to do with it.

"Thank you," said Louisa, holding the small dagger in her hand the way she had seen knights and squires practicing. The nighthob shook her head.

"No, no, yer doin' it all wrong," said the nighthob. "Ye gotta hold it like... ere, practice stabbin' this sack." She turned around and grabbed a sack of flour, holding it in front of her. "Pretend it's that arsehole wot 'ad you before."

Louisa frowned, picturing Junior's face above the sack, and jabbed the knife forward. It barely scratched the cloth of the bag.

"All yer gonna do there is anger 'im," said the nighthob. "Ye gotta put more strength behind it, like this. 'old the bag for me, willye?"

Louisa took the bag, and flinched, closing her eyes, as the nighthob grabbed her other knife, drew her arm back, and drove the knife deep into the bag.

"Ye were meant to watch," said the nighthob, wrenching the knife free and coughing as flour puffed out into her face.

"Oh," said Louisa. "Sorry." The nighthob squinted at her.

"Ye don't talk like a lady, do ye?" said the nighthob. Her inquisitive gaze probably would have looked less amusing if she weren't covered in flour.

"I'm not a born noble," said Louisa. "I'm the daughter of a fish-monger, my husband... found me there and took a liking to me."

"And ye never learned to fight dirty?" asked the nighthob.

"No," said Louisa, shaking her head. "Never."

"Well, that's weird," said the nighthob. "A villager who never learned to fight dirty... where'd you say you were from originally? Ye said fish so I'm guessin... Fort Pinta?" Louisa shook her head again.

"Cape West," said Louisa. The nighthob stared at her in amazement.

"That place is crawlin' with street rats," said the nighthob. "An' ye never 'ad to learn how to defend yerself?"

"No," said Louisa. "I knew to stay inside after dark."

"Well, I don't have time to teach ye," said the nighthob. "Places to be, people to rob, ye know 'ow it is. Or ye don't 'cause yer too sheltered."

"I don't know how to use a knife," said Louisa, making to hand it back, but the nighthob shook her head.

"Keep it, an' I might see ye around," said the nighthob, waving her hands away. "But fer now, I'm gonna teach ye some basic stuff. Street fighting, like."

"Okay," said Louisa, not sure where to put the knife. Perhaps her husband would know someone who could make her a sheath for it.

"Alright," said the nighthob. "Put that bag down." Louisa gently tossed it down to the ground, and flour puffed up from it, causing them both to cough. Then, the nighthob laughed. "What will yer 'usband think when ye come back covered in flour?"

"I think he'll notice my torn clothes and distraught demeanor first," said Louisa. The nighthob clicked her tongue.

"Aye, true," said the nighthob. "Anyway, I'll teach ye a few things and then be on my way."

"Okay," said Louisa, wiping her sweaty palms on her cloak.

"When yer in a bad situation," said the nighthob, "the first thing ye must do is go fer the groin. Fells a man everytime. If ye can't do that, though, the eyes might work. Just get two fingers and poke 'em!" She made a jabbing motion, and Louisa winced, imagining the pain. "Now, don't worry 'bout 'urtin 'im, 'cos 'e was only gonna hurt you worse."

"I know," said Louisa. "So, I go for the groin or eyes. Though I feel safe with a knife, even if I don't know how to use it."

"I might stick around the area," said the nighthob. "Plenty 'o rich people 'ere. The queen might 'ave me 'anged or somethin', though."

"Don't risk your life for my sake," said Louisa.

"Nah, it's fine, the idea 'o teachin' a noble lady 'ow to fight amuses me," said the nighthob. "So I'll be seein' ye, but ye best get 'ome to yer 'usband now. See if 'e can't have 'is brother flogged." Louisa laughed.

"I'd love to see that," said Louisa. "Where will we meet?"

"Leave a pie or somethin' out fer me," said the nighthob, and, just like that, she'd vanished over the wall. Louisa stood where she was for a moment before she turned around and headed back home. She might be hurting, and still rattled from her earlier altercation with Junior and that brute, but she felt happy. Finally, someone was going to teach her how to fight. She wouldn't be a cowering girl anymore.


End file.
